Motivations
by basscymru
Summary: Sometimes when you're woken at two in the morning, it's hard to see one's motivations.


Poppy tucked the strands of hair that had escaped her hasty bun behind her ears, sighing heavily as she did. It was two o'clock in the morning, and she had been awoken to tend to a seventh year who seemed to have acquired an _obscure ailment_. It was not as if she wasn't used to losing sleep in order to nurse the foolish young things who seemed to attend Hogwarts these days. It was only that she was never happy about it.

"I'm sorry, Nurse," the girl said sheepishly, holding out her arm for Poppy to inspect. "It was only that, since it's the end of Hogwarts and everything-"

"Andromeda," Poppy interrupted. "I'm not interested in your illicit midnight Quidditch match." The tips of the young Slytherin's ears turned pink.

"But, it's just, if you tell Slughorn, I would hate to be in detention for the final-"

"I am here to nurse you, and doing that requires your trust," Poppy recited, thinking back to her medicare text book. "To give you up to a teacher is in neither of our best interests." As she said this, she turned her back to look for the Skele-Grow, yet she could almost hear Andromeda's face break into a grin.

"I knew you were good, Nurse P."

Poppy rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips for emphasis. "Find yourself a bed and take this potion every hour, on the hour. Do not wake me unless you've managed to break your arm again." Andromeda smiled sheepishly and Poppy encouraged her with a nod toward the nearest bed. "Goodnight, Andromeda."

"Night, Madame P," Andromeda answered as she climbed under the covers. Poppy waited just long enough to watch her settle before she hurried to her small quarters at the back of the hospital wing.

With a groan, Poppy threw herself onto her bed, already dressed in her night things. Andromeda had not given much warning when she had knocked timidly on Poppy's door, and she had only the time to throw on a dressing gown before leaving the comfort of her quarters to tend to the girl.

To her dismay, when she closed her eyes, sleep did not come immediately. Instead, she thought back over the past three years of her life - all the time she had spent at Hogwarts.

She remembered when Professor Dumbledore had first approached her about the job. There was an opening for the position of the school nurse, and as a result, Dumbledore had visited St Mungo's, looking for a medi witch or wizard who might be suitable for the job. Poppy was fortunate enough to be working that day, and Dumbledore had been impressed with her work as she simultaneously dealt with a sobbing six year old who had run into some trouble with her father's wand and a grumpy, old man who insisted that he had been attacked by Cornish Pixies. Poppy sent the child home with a chocolate frog and gently explained to the old man that a rash on his shoulder was not indicative of a pixie attack before sending him on his way with a cream. Dumbledore had been so impressed that he offered her a job after only a short interview. Poppy, keen to escape from the hellish business of St Mungo's, had gladly accepted. She didn't have the heart to tell him that dealing with young children and elderly people whom she would never see again was quite different to treating restless teenagers, especially when she lived in the same building as them.

Was that really why she had this job? Because there was nothing better to do? Looking at the school's track record, the people who got a job in the school rarely left. Dumbledore himself had worked in Hogwarts for decades upon decades. To never move on with her life seemed, to Poppy, to be the most tragic thing imaginable, although what choice did she have? Apart from jumping ship to America or Europe, leaving her friends and family behind, or finding another job in St Mungo's, there was little else for her to do. For a while she had considered going into research, before quickly realising that she had no taste for such a thing after attempting a lecture at the Royal Society for Wizarding Physicians.

These were the thoughts that spun around her mind as she slowly, slowly drifted to sleep.

The following morning, when she was as well rested as she could manage and at least dressed appropriately, Poppy left her quarters to find a young boy standing at the door of the Hospital Wing, shuffling his feet and holding one arm.

"Hello, Remus," she said, smiling warmly across the room at him as she bustled around her desk.

"Hullo, Ma'am," the boy said, drawing closer and letting go of his arm. I clutched it again a moment later, as if looking for something to do.

"What can I do for you?"

"I-I just wanted to say thank you for helping me this year," Remus said quickly, as if trying to get it all out at once. "It was really scary, being away from home and dealing with everything and it's just -" Remus stopped to take a deep breath and finally met Poppy's eyes. "It's just that I wouldn't have made it through without you. So thank you."

Poppy smiled before crouching down a bit to meet his eyes. "You're quite welcome, dear."

She was met by a sudden pressure to her middle before it abruptly disappeared. The boy was half-way out the door before Poppy realized she had just been the recipient of a rushed hug.

Poppy allowed herself a small smile before walking over to attend to her morning routine. Sometimes the light of day made it much easier to see one's motivations.

* * *

 **This was written for the semifinals round of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. As the keeper of the Caerphilly Catapults, I was assigned to write about Poppy's motivations for wanting her job.**


End file.
